Out of Tune
by EpicInTheLibrary
Summary: "I record everything now." Kendall/James


_Hhheeeyyyy tthhheeerrreeeeeee ANYWAY **This** is what I've been working my butt of on instead of writing that Carlos rape I promised forever ago, I'm sorry it's not rapish, it's stil pornish and angstish, and isn't that the best kind of writing?_

_-Oho, suddenly they have ALL the characters? lol-_

* * *

"Nn- stop it, seriousl- Gustavo's office, really?"

"Come on, it'll be fun," he murmurs against my lips, pushing me back and pressing against me. "'Sides, it's like payback."

I stop and hold the collar of his shirt in my fingers, crushing the unfortunate fabric to bits. "'Payback?'"

"For all the crap he makes us do all day." He whines slightly and walks me backward- or forward for him- a few more steps, hands on my waist under my shirt, palms warm and sweeping up my sides. "Kendall, please."

Ugh, I _hate _it when he says my name like that- it's impossible to resist. I exhale and pull at his bottom lip with my teeth. "James, you suck."

His mischievous grin beats him to it. "You want me to?"

Instead of slapping my palm to my face like I want to, I stare him in the eye and respond with, "Sure."

It doesn't put him off, however, as he just grins more widely, kisses me briefly but deeply, and sinks slowly to his knees, lips planting themselves in various places along the way. That's funny, I don't remember my shirt ever leaving my body. James pushes me the last two steps back into Gustavo's desk, his fingers slipping up the backs of my thighs and a look on his face as he watches me for my reaction that's the epitome of seductive.

I exhale slowly, trying to keep in control of myself as I return his stare as evenly as I can. His fingers trail around to the front of my jeans while he moves forward to mouth at the steadily growing bulge. It's that _look_ he's giving me, that facial expression that tells me how much he's evidently enjoying this and that I'm in for it. A promise, a warning.

"James, come on," I plead, my voice breaking embarrassingly on his name. He breathes out through his mouth, mostly to get me even more worked up, and peels my jeans out of the way, boxer-briefs following suit. Deft fingers caress my semi-erect shaft, warm palms welcoming the heat. My mouth slips open and lets out a soft noise, eyelids suddenly lazy.

"James," I mumble, staring down at him as he begins stroking me to full erectness. He glances up, catching my gaze and smirking slightly, opening his mouth to suck lightly on the head.

I groan and unintentionally buck my hips forward, forcing more of myself into his mouth. James just goes with it, fingers gripping my hips as he starts up a rhythm. I stare at him in fascination for another moment before shutting my eyes and leaning back, focusing on the pleasure lancing through my abdomen, palms pressed against the front of the desk to prop me up. My fingers are curled around the overhanging edge so tightly the knuckles are probably white, and I give another pleasured groan as I feel him go deeper on me.

He pulls his head back and forth like a pro, twisting just a little, using his tongue like he's trying to scrape the sugar off a sour gummy worm. Which is a really creepy analogy, I guess, but that's what it feels like, and it's a good thing. Like, really good. His name comes out a few more times, encouragement, and he responds by using one of his hands to fondle my balls as he works. My mouth opens even wider as my jaw works around a strangled moan, and I'm grasping for his hair almost compulsively.

Immediately my hands are swatted away and I retreat obediently. James has this thing with his hair, and apparently not even I'm an exception to it. Sex, he says, is no excuse; if someone were to ever walk in on us, he would still need to be presentable.

Well that's fine. I don't even like his hair.

That's totally a lie. I like everything about James. I like the way his hips sway when he walks sometimes, and I like the way his eyes widen in absolute horror whenever someone threatens anything related to the contribution to his physical appearance, and I like the way he smirks knowingly at me from across the room and the way he steals me away whenever he feels like it and the way he kisses me and the way he sucks me off like his life depends on it and-

"Nnnh," I whine as a burst of pleasure surges through me. James gives a similar noise in response and I open my eyes, glancing down at him. His eyes are closed and he's working diligently, but his eyebrows are furrowed, raised in slight distress, one of his hands kneading needily at the front of his pants. I grin, mouth still open, and kick his hand out of the way. His eyes snap open and find mine, fluttering shut once again when I nudge the bulge with the toe of my shoe, another noise rumbling in his throat against my dick. It feels amazing.

For about a second.

Suddenly James is pulling off, and everything flushes out of me, and I'm like "hey, hey, hey, wait a second." Because who gave him the right to just _stop?_ Yeah. _No one._

"J-James."

"Calm down, I'm not gonna leave."

I'm still put off by the sudden deprivation of suckage. He'd better have a good reason for this.

He doesn't.

Using the desk as support, he pulls himself to his feet and undoes the button and zipper on his jeans, retrieving his cock and stroking it fully a few times before tugging me forward by the wrist.

"Your turn."

Oh yeah right.

I stare at him with a look that says, "No bj for you, bitch," as I reach forward and take the place of his hand, stroking slowly and thoroughly up and down. He returns with a look saying, "Nice try," and promptly shoves me to my knees, slamming forward into my mouth with no hesitation.

My head is still spinning from how quickly he executed that, and his thrusting repeatedly into my open mouth isn't helping me get my senses back. My instincts are trying to get me to breathe, but I quickly find it quite impossible and end up choking slightly, attempting to get air though my nose instead. James just smiles sweetly down at me, eyes clouded with pleasure, and ruffles his fingers through my hair, mussing it up. What a hypocrite. Sparks materialize painfully at the bottom of my vision from the strain of looking up at him and I close my eyes, beginning to feel a little light-headed. My chest tightens from the lack of air being supplied to my lungs and I want to force him off, but I know James, and that isn't going to get him to stop. The only thing I can do is cooperate, hope I won't die, and try to hold onto myself.

I take his hips in my hands and try to steady him, working with the rapid rhythm he has going and sweeping my tongue across the searing flesh assaulting its rightful domain. I vaguely hear James moaning, my name thrown into the mix a few times, but I'm more focused on the way my nose is not very efficient in gathering a sufficient amount of oxygen and that my chest is about to implode. I cough around him, spit running down my chin, determined to keep up with him.

I don't realize how tightly I'm gripping his hips until he finally pulls off and I see the red crescent marks imprinted in the skin through my swimming, rippling vision. I'm coughing, gasping for air, left vulnerable, something James is more than happy to take advantage of.

He hefts me up roughly, clapping me on the back a few times, and sits me on the edge of the desk. Climbing over me, he murmurs something ridiculously cheesy about CPR and connects our lips feverishly.

Well. It's not helping me regain a sense of my normal breathing, but the way his lips are moving against mine somehow makes me forget about that. I feel him exhale into my mouth and glance down to see him slowly jacking off as he kisses me, pressing closer and tilting his head to gain better access. Our tongues clash and my hand is on his neck- not touching his hair (God forbid)- and I'm still light-headed, but I'm not sure that it's still from lack of air. He leans forward slowly, gradually pushing me down on my back, his weight held up by his hand pressed on the dark wood next to my head. It's only now that I realize I'm completely naked, and James only has his fly open. Something about that just doesn't sit right with me.

"James," I murmur, pulling away from the kiss, now fully on the desk, James hovering over me. He tilts forward and kisses at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah."

"Strip."

He breathes out through his nose and grins against my lips, nodding and kissing me once again before pulling away and stepping off the desk, taking a few more steps back and giving me a sultry grin that turns me on more than anything. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching as he slowly starts to peel off his T-shirt, moaning in the back of my throat at the sight. As more and more skin is revealed, my arousal spikes in the pit of my stomach and I shift my weight to one elbow to reach down and stroke myself slowly as I watch.

James makes sure to take as long as possible getting undressed before me, and it's getting to me. I'm so horny right now it's kind of pissing me off that he's delaying what I really want to get to. I swear, I'm just gonna explode all over the place and leave, and he'll just have to get off by himself.

After taking what feels like an hour to get his shirt off, he goes to work on his pants, taking just about ten times as long on that. It's so frustrating, and he has this _look_ on his face the whole time that makes me tighten my hold on myself subconsciously and suppress small moans that attempt to get out.

"J-James... God, why d'you- Hurry up!" I snap. He grins and peels the remaining clothing away, stepping closer as his hand finds his cock, giving it the attention I'm _sure_ it needs.

"Mm, Kendall, you know how sexy you look right now?"

"Mm, yeah, you know how we're gonna get caught if we don't speed things up a bit?" He just laughs and comes over, tracing his fingers up one of my thighs to rest his palm on my knee.

"Alright, if that's what you want," he murmurs before hooking my leg over his shoulder and plunging himself in with no warning or preparation whatsoever. Well, James is just full of surprises today, isn't he?

"Aahh, f-fu- Th-that's not what I meant," I gasp out, feeling my face contort in pain. "J-James-"

"Well it worked, didn't it?" he smirks, pulling back and slamming forward again, driving the breath out of me.

"_No,_" I pant, throwing my head back against the desk and latching my fingers around the arm he's using to hold himself up. He repeats the process of in, out, in, out, and it burnsand stings and just overall hurts like a fucking bitch.

Then he hits my prostate.

This noise comes out of me, something I didn't even know I could produce, and James laughs breathlessly, returning by driving into it again, harder. My back arches off the desk and my fingers tighten around his arm, my other hand returning to stroke at my absolutely pulsating dick. James continues slamming into my sweet spot, making me stutter his name and a few other things, and I think I'm losing my mind. I jack off furiously, my voice several octaves higher than I'm used to, everything escalating to a point I don't think I can control. I begin grinding my hips down on him in time with his thrusts and I swear my eyes roll back into my head and melt into my clouded brain. I'm so, so close, just a little more, oh god ohgod _fuck-_

James knocks my hand away from my dick and takes over, and with a particularly hard slam into my sweet spot I'm easily sent over the edge. My whole body seems to shut down for a split second before fireworks are erupting all over the place and I'm making that noise again, long and drawn out, and James just continues hitting my prostate repeatedly while working me through it with his hand, adding the most incredible sparks to everything. I'm panting and moaning and reduced to nothing for what seems like the most intense, amazing forever before it's over and I'm brought down from my orgasmic high.

My head clears just as James shudders and pulls out, hand releasing my cock to wrap around his own. He finishes himself off, coming all over me and parts of the desk, moaning my name with his head tilted back until he's done. Then he just braces himself on the desk, arms rigidly straight under his weight as he just pants with his head lowered so I can't see his face. We both continue to get our breath back for about another minute before James looks up, eyes locking with mine, and grins, taking my hand and pulling me into a sitting position.

"That was good, right?" he says, running a hand back through his hair. Yeah. Total hypocrite.

"Yes," I admit, pulling him forward into a short but deep kiss. "Definitely."

He seriously can't stop smiling today, obviously pleased with himself judging by the way he's positively beaming.

"Alright then, my work here is done. Let's get dressed and go." He turns to get his clothes and I raise an eyebrow.

"And just leave this here?" He looks back to see me gesturing to the cum on the desk- and myself- and rolls his eyes.

"Just eat it."

"Ew, no." I always found that stuff kinda nasty. James rolls his eyes again and comes over, lapping it up off the desk quickly. I swear, it's a good thing he's not with Carlos or something; as much as I love the guy, he wouldn't even think about this kind of stuff and they'd be caught in a second.

"Alright let's go." I make a sound of indignance and gesture to myself, still covered in cum. He rolls his eyes in exasperation again and sighs before getting a sultry look on his face that makes me swallow, sauntering right up and leaning in to clean it off, not nearly as fast this time. He works with slow, leisurely strokes of his tongue, glancing up at me in between laps to make sure my attention is still completely focused on him.

I don't think anything has ever turned me on that fast _ever._

I run a hand up and down his back slowly as he works and tilt my head back, closing my eyes as I focus on the feel of his tongue working on me, looking back down at him through hooded eyes every few seconds.

As soon as he's done he springs up, pats my thigh twice and turns on his heel, heading over to pull on his pants. I'm left sitting on the desk gaping stupidly, mostly at how I let myself think that was gonna turn into something somehow. Of course not- it would just start the whole mess problem again. Stupid Kendall.

Sighing shortly, I jump off the desk to retrieve my own clothes. James gets his shirt on his arms and turns, smirking over his shoulder at me before pulling the black material over his head and onto his body. I roll my eyes and get dressed, James watching shamelessly while he waits. Once I finish he smiles cutely at me and holds the door to the office open for me, and I exit the room, still half hard and fixing my hair back into place.

I seriously cannot believe I just did that.

...

"Gustavo, could you come here for just a sec?"

Gustavo slams down on the piano keys and turns to face Kelly, who's poking her head in the room with the rest of her hidden behind the door. Logan, Carlos, James and I cut off our singing and exchange glances. Kelly doesn't usually chance interrupting rehearsal; normally she'll just wait until we're done to say what she has to say. Obviously this must be important.

"Kelly, I am in the _middle_ of-"

"I know, I know, just- It'll only take a second, and I really think you should hear this." Gustavo give an extremely exaggerated roll of the eyes and groans loudly, standing up and following her out into the hallway.

"Freight Train, make sure the dogs don't _break_ anything," he calls over his shoulder before the door shuts.

Right on cue Logan whirls and points to Carlos with both hands. "You broke something didn't you," he demands. Carlos steps back, appalled.

"_No,_" he says, hand on his chest as he leans back indignantly. "Seriously, I didn't. Why you always gotta assume it's my fault?"

"'Cuz it usually is," I point out, and he frowns disapprovingly at me.

"Well _I_ say it was _Logan,_" he counters. "He probably got _brain_ all over the place."

Before Logan can point out how incredibly impossible that is, James continues, "Yeah, that or he graffiti-ed the quadratic formula on the wall."

"Okay, okay, we _get_ it," Logan snarls indignantly. "But I did _not_ do anything that stupid or illegal."

"Maybe James left his mascara on Gustavo's desk," I suggest, grinning as James glares at me.

"Maybe _you_ left your _eyeshadow_ on his desk," he retaliates. I give him an "oh you did_ not_ just say that" look and cross my arms over my chest.

"Well maybe _you_ got glue all over it."

"Maybe you ate it!"

"Maybe _you_ did!"

Logan and Carlos look completely lost by this point, and before James can come back with anything the door slams open.

"Kendall, James, out here, _now!_"

Oh, I do not like the sound of that. Gustavo sounds furious.

"_Ha!_" Carlos cries, smacking Logan upside the head (which evolves into a vicious slap fight) while I exchange a nervous glance with James. He shrugs and I sigh, heading out into the hallway with him. The door closes behind us and the silence is immediate. Gustavo stares us down, particularly me, and the tension is suffocating. Finally, just when I'm about to run for my life, Gustavo opens his mouth.

"Why."

"Why what?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Why does Kendall suck so much?" James ventures, earning a slap on the arm from me.

"Yes." Wait, what? That totally throws me. Before I can say anything, though, he continues, "In my office."

No. Oh my god, no. This isn't happening. How the _hell_ did they find out? Okay, Kendall, let's not jump to conclusions; that's not necessarily what he meant.

"Wh-what about your office?" I try, hoping for my life that my facial expression isn't giving everything away and that Gustavo is just mad about a popsicle I ate in his office. Kelly speaks up.

"Guys, when I went back to get my recorder from Gustavo's office, I realized that I accidently left it on, so I started rewinding it to find where it started, and I found some... _interesting_ audio."

Holy. Shit. The whole thing is on tape? _The whole fucking thing on tape?_ I bite my lip in anxiety and turn to glare at James. _This is all your fault._

"Really?" James sort of squeaks in false interest. "Like what kind of audio?"

Apparently that's it for Gustavo.

"You had _sex_ in my _office!_" he blows up in fury. I panic, my eyes widening as I rush forward and desperately try to quell him.

"Oh yeah, yeah, you're right, we did, you sure caught us, _shhh!_" Knowing Logan and Carlos, they're probably listening at the door.

"And we're _so _so sorry," James chimes in, catching on to the let's-calm-down-Gustavo-before-he-tells-the-whole-world plan.

"It'll never happen again."

"Never."

"Ever."

"_Dogs!_" Gustavo throws his hands in the air, forcing me to take a step back. "This is _unacceptable!_ I will _not_ allow you to just _do_ whatever you want _whenever_ you want _just_ because I make you do things _you don't want to!_"

"What? Nonsense," I say, running a hand back through my hair nervously. "We never-"

Kelly hits the button on the tape recorder, unimpressed, and to my horror our voices start spilling out.

"_-really?"_

"_Come on, it'll be fun... 'Sides, it's like payback."_

"_Payback?"_

"_For all the crap he makes us do all day."_

She hits the stop button and I cringe at the glare Gustavo sends me. James has taken an intense interest in the red and white pattern of the wall nearest him.

"Guys," Kelly starts, breaking the heavy silence, "it's fine if you... wanna do what you wanna do, but..." She trails off awkwardly, failing completely at whatever she was trying to say, because I have no idea what her point was. Gustavo takes it upon himself to finish her thought.

"You can_not_ do those things in my _office_ out of _spite!_"

"Could you maybe- stop yelling?" I ask a bit timidly, wincing as he turns his gaze on me.

"_No!_" he screams predictably. "Now, you two are going to work for me for a _month._ Eight to four, every day, no lunch break, no disappearing off to anywhere in the middle of anything. Freight Train will be supervising, so you won't be trying anything."

James and I groan simultaneously at each new prospect, and once he's finished we both break out complaining.

"Gustavo, you can't-"

"-totally not fair-"

"-every _day-_"

"-gonna call a lawyer-"

"-no _lunch-_"

"-_Freight Train?-_"

"_Heel!_" Gustavo barks, and we fall silent. "You've brought this upon yourselves. Don't like it, you _should_ have thought about it when you were in there."

"But-"

"No."

"We don't-"

"No."

"Y-"

"No."

"W-"

"Tomorrow at eight!" he roars. End of story. "Kelly, give me the tape." He holds out his hand and she slaps it down into his palm. "Dogs, back in there, don't _break_ anything." He turns and starts off down the hallway towards his office, Kelly on his heels. Once they're out of sight I sigh heavily and groan.

"That went well," James says cheerily. I smack him on the arm.

"Dude, none of that would have happened if he just would have gone back to the apartment like Logan and Carlos."

"Yeah, well, then they would have been there."

"Would have been better than _this,_" I state, turning and yanking the doorknob hard. When I push it, however, it knocks against something solid that is not air and shrieks, "Ow!" I knew it.

"You guys are gay?" Carlos questions from the floor, Logan standing behind him.

"_He_ is," I answer, jerking my thumb back at James as I head past Carlos and Logan.

"So is he!" James adds indignantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Yeah, well," I start, spinning back around to face him. "At least I'm not _stupid._"

"At least I don't make stupid faces when I'm getting fucked up the ass!" he retaliates. I scoff furiously and turn on my heel, crossing my arms as my face colors. I cannot believe he just said that.

"You are the most _immature,_ self-absorbed _douche bag_ I have ever met!"

"Yeah, well, you're not that great a guy, either!"

I turn back around to face the back wall again. "So then I guess we're done."

"I guess we are."

"Fine."

"_Fine._"

The room falls into a deafening silence, pressing into my ears, caving in, but I hold my ground, smoldering viciously. If James could hear what I was thinking right now-

The door bangs open and Gustavo enters, and I swear Logan lets out a sigh of relief. I don't think anyone has ever been relieved to see Gustavo.

"Dogs!" he calls, stalking over to the piano again. "From the top, key of G, _now._"

...

Laying on your bed and tossing a hockey puck up and down repeatedly is not a good way to exert your frustrations, nor is it fun. But that's what I'm doing right now, so I guess that's it.

I guess I could be down at the pool pretending to be relaxing, or at least helping my mom with something or another, but for some reason I just don't really have the energy. It's kind of strange how my life has gotten so uneventful so suddenly.

James has been depressed over the last couple of days. It's been really obvious; he shuffles around at the pace of a snail, hardly eats anything, and when I see his face there's this hopeless look on it that makes me cringe on the inside. Yes, of course I miss him and what we had, but that's just the James I knew before our fight. This James is someone totally different. So what if he's hopelessly depressed? He should have thought about that the other day when he was being an asshole.

I hear the door to the apartment open and shut. Either Carlos or Logan. Or both. Or Mom or Katie, I guess. James is moping in his room. Footsteps approach, getting closer, and stop (I'm assuming) in front of James's room. Carlos's voice softly asks, "Hey man... you okay?" There's the hollowed sound of James's voice, and Carlos's light footsteps make their way into the room.

I stop tossing the hockey puck, setting it beside me as I sit up, curious. As quietly as I can, I slide off the bed and pad in my socks to the doorway, where I can hear everything.

"Carlos... I fucked up." He sighs and continues in a shaky, shuddering voice, "I made a stupid mistake and now Kendall hates me, and it's all my f-fault." His voice wavers on the last word and I get a painful twinge in my chest. He continues on in an even softer voice, "And he's right, I am just an immature self-absorbed douche bag. I miss him so much, and I just want him back." He sniffles and I bite my lip.

"Why don't you just tell him that- apologize?" Carlos suggests.

"I- He wouldn't accept it," James says hopelessly. "Every time I try to get even remotely close to him he moves away or leaves to go do something else. He hates me, Carlos." A dull aching starts up in my chest at these words. He's right; I have been avoiding him.

"No, no I don't think so," Carlos disagrees gently. "I think if you apologized, he would listen to you. You should try it."

"No," James moans, and with a deep, throbbing ache I realize he's crying. "I can't talk to him, h-he doesn't want anything to d-do with-th me anymore..."

"Shh," Carlos soothes. James's crying become muffled and I assume he's buried his face into Carlos's shoulder.

"I just want him back," James sobs almost unintelligibly. "I want to take back everything that happened so none of it happened, I want Kendall..." His voice breaks on my name and I swallow hard as tears prick my eyes. 'So what if he's hopelessly depressed?'? What a joke.

Just as I'm about to leave, the front door opens and closes and after a moment Logan comes into view. As James's muffled sobs register along with the sight of me standing here listening, his eyes darken and he shakes his head. He heads past me into our room and shuts the door, leaving me alone with the sobs that seem to resound, ricocheting off the walls of my head, mocking me, filling me up, merciless, until I want to scream or explode or die. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes and sink to the floor, knees bent, defenseless, vulnerable. This is so hard. I just want it all gone. I want to wake up, the last lingering wisps of this nightmare melting, fading away, extinguished by the warm arms encompassing me, protecting me, his breath ruffling my hair rhythmically, a constant reminder that I'm not alone, I'm not alone. No, James, it's not all your fault.

It's mine.

...

Silence seems to be becoming a recurring theme in my life. It stabs at my eardrums painfully, and I want to overcome it with more that just the squeaking of towels against Gustavo's framed records.

James and I are at opposite ends of the room, backs facing each other. Gustavo has us cleaning his beloved platinum records with the sole instruction of spending a full minute on each. Freight Train stands stoically in the corner of the room, watching over us with such a lack of animation it's like he's not even there. All I can think about is how utterly wrong it is that we're across the room from each other and not working together. The silence is so blatant it's like someone's screaming in my ear. My ears are ringing and popping and I clench my jaw to stop it, to no avail. It's painful knowing James is just over there but acting like he's not. It's painful knowing how much this is hurting him, how excruciating the pressing silence really is. Its significance, its implications, its binding restraints. All it needs is someone with the courage to break it.

It's not me.

James releases a shuddering breath and takes another, composing himself.

"K-Kendall..?" he speaks timidly, softly from across the room. Before I have a chance to decide whether I want to answer, he continues shakily, "I just-" He breaks off to swallow before going on, "I want to say- You were right. I mean, it was really stupid for me to do all that, and... I guess I am pretty self-absorbed, and I was jerk. I didn't really mean what I said; I actually like the faces you make, and they're not stupid, and I- I miss them, and I miss you, and I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry."

The silence is back. It stretches out, falls over the room as I continue to hesitate. There it was. The apology he was so afraid to give. He got up the courage to say it, and he's probably about ready to vomit from the pressure and strain it's putting on him. So why aren't I saying anything? Why aren't I running across the room and latching onto him and kissing the life out of him? Why am I just standing here motionlessly, letting it go on? I just stare at my dim reflection in the glass of the frame, trying to decipher myself through the shadowed image. What does it say?

"You know what I am?" James speaks softly, swallowing before starting to sing in a quiet, shaky voice.

"_Oh, I'm such a turd, oh yeah, a giant turd, and I look like a turd and I sme-"_ His voice breaks on the high note and he clears his throat, finishing the song almost silently. I'm smiling falsely at the ridiculous words of the song, and that he chose that particular song to sing, and about himself, which is completely not true, and really, the smile is nothing. Horrible guilt and devastation are crashing through me, over me, drowning me, and I shudder violently at the effect.

_Because you're a coward, Kendall._

"No," I speak almost inaudibly, my voice hoarse and scratchy as I blink back the threatening tears. I drop the towel and spray bottle and slowly turn around, taking a deep, shuddering breath before I begin to sing.

"_Here I am, there you are; why does it seem so far?"_ I take slow, sure steps towards him, his back still turned to me. My voice shakes the slightest bit, but I try to overpower it and continue it, reaching out as I near him. _"Next to you is where I should be..."_

It's not the upbeat elaborate version we sang for the album; it's the smooth, slow one we had at first, before we fucked it up singing to Jo. I grip his shoulder as my voice fades, feeling him tense at my touch.

It's like a movie.

Sparks fly and everything else fades away, and when I reach around to pull him towards me, he moves in slow motion. His face turns towards me, eyes filled with tears, and I close my eyes, leaning in and brushing our lips together.

Everything disappears, yet at the same time it all explodes. We connect like it was meant to be, James turning fully to pull his arms around my neck, hanging on like he'll never let go. At this point I'm not sure he ever will. He's shuddering and crying into the kiss, but his grip is so firm and relentless I can tell he couldn't be happier. It lasts for what could be forever, but then, nothing lasts forever, and too soon our forever is over.

"You're the only kind of guy I want," he mumbles shakily into my ear, and I smile at his incredible ability to be exceedingly cheesy. I love it.

Sliding my fingers back into his hair, I pull him into another kiss, and maybe he's gotten over his obsession with his hair, because he just hugs me closer and kisses me more deeply, more slowly. It's not searing like everything else we've done, but passionate and emotional. Our relationship has changed since that first time he kissed me in the bathroom during cleanup after a rather adventurous smoothie epidemic. Now when I look into his eyes, I don't just see pretty brown irises. It's become so much more.

We separate again and I bite my lip as he wipes his eyes and sniffles. "Look, James..." I begin. "I... I was the jerk. I just panicked and overreacted, and it all got dumped on you. It was stupid and all my fault and had nothing to do with you, okay, so don't go blaming yourself, alright?" He nods and sniffles again, smiling genuinely at me. I rest our foreheads together, murmuring, "And I don't hate you. I never hated you. I'm sorry, James." His eyes shine and he captures my lips once more before pulling away, gaze suddenly focusing on something behind me. I frown and turn, immediately spotting our buddy Freight Train still standing in the corner. Watching us.

I detach myself from James, him grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly as I clear my throat, raising my eyebrows and biting the inside of my lip.

"Oh- uh, sorry." So smooth. "Are we... bothering you?"

"No," he answers in that soft voice of his. "I think it's sad to see you two all broke up and fighting like that. I'm glad you're fixing it."

Freight Train is my hero.

"We should probably get back to cleaning, though, huh?" I suggest, and he nods. Squeezing James's hand firmly one last time, I let go and head back over to my side of the room, picking up the discarded spray bottle and towel.

Oh, who am I kidding? Why should we work at opposite sides of the room? Turning back, I aim and launch the balled up towel, calling out, "James, think fast!" He turns just in time to get hit in the face. I crack up, clapping my hands together as he reaches down to retrieve the fallen towel. As I'm still laughing he straightens up and chucks it back, face lighting up as it clocks me on the side of my head.

"Oh yeah right!" I cry, picking it up as I charge over to him, wielding my towel and my spray bottle. "You're goin' _down!_"

"Not if I can help it!" He shrieks when I initiate the towel slap fight, retaliating furiously and just making it that much more fun. I'm surprised Freight Train hasn't stopped us by now, but I guess he's just a pretty cool guy.

In no time our "slap fight" has been reduced to weak, half-assed whips of the towels and uncontrollable fits of laughter. Coincidentally, James's immaturity is one of my favorite things about him, and I'm glad it manages to rub off on my every once in a while. I feel so free, so careless, like nothing in the world matters except him, me, and the words 'together forever.'

The door to the room opens, but I'm too high on laughter to notice or care.

"Guys, Gustavo wants us all in th-" The voice cuts off as he or she realizes what's happening. I finally glance over to see Carlos turning back to call out, "Logan, c'mere!"

"Still grinning stupidly, I swat blindly at James's continued attempts at overpowering my indestructible skill and call, "Hey, Carlos. What'd you want?" Logan's head appears next to Carlos's. James's hand pushes at the side of my head and I push back, only to receive his retaliation. I grab my towel and turn to him, smacking it back and forth across his upper arm, instigating another towel slap fight. By now Carlos and Logan have been forgotten, our battle cries making that known.

"C'mon, James, you already lost!"

"No, you never called it-" I open my mouth to claim my rightful victory- "and you can't now 'cuz I win I win IwinIwinIwin-"

"No! No you don't!" I slap him across the face with my towel and leap up in victory, fist pumping in triumph. "_I_ win!"

Then James has my wrists and has slammed me to the wall, pinning my hands up on either side of my head.

"What now?" he grins, and I swallow.

"Uh..."

"Alright- well!" Carlos claps his hands together and brings himself fully into the room, Logan in tow with a wary/freaked out facial expression (the kind that means he's really uncomfortable and wants to get out of here pronto), leaving the door hanging open. "As much as we'd _love_ to see you two start making out, Gustavo sent Logan and me here to get you. He says we need to work on harmonies for The City is Ours. So let's get moving!" I shrug at James and he reluctantly releases me, bending down to retrieve our abandoned spray bottles. Carlos grins and turns around, suddenly noticing my new hero. "Oh hey, Freight Train."

Freight Train gives a little wave and after James and I nod to him, the four of us head out into the hallway, Freight Train following behind. Out of the corner of my eye I see Carlos slap James a high-five and grin to myself. I have the best friends.

Gustavo isn't feeling the mood when we get into the recording studio, immediately ordering us to get into the booth and stand James to Carlos, his shortened version of, "Stand in the order of James, Kendall, Logan and Carlos."

After yelling at Carlos to "take off that stupid helmet," he commands, "Now start from the chorus, and _don't_ mess anything up!"

Oh yeah. Life is good.

* * *

_Yyeah. Sorry for the horribly cliche EVERYTHING and the retarded spin of the turd song (it totally wasn't meant to be used like that) and it's so retarded but despite everything I think this might be one o' my fave things I've written, along with We Wear the Shadows, Please Explain, and a Crenny I've been working on for like five months, I swear. It's almost done, I just need to think of an ending. _

_Back to this. Has anyone else noticed how much Gustavo likes to beat up James? Like, especially on the ghost episode, Big Time Terror? I swear, every time he throws something it hits James. MY theory is that he's jealous that James got Kendall instead of him and he's getting revenge. Like, seriously. Go watch it, because EVERY TIME. AAANNNNDDD that part where Jo sits down with Kendall and Gustavo comes in and shoves her off the bench? JEALOUSY. POSSESSIVE ISSUES. I SWEAR IT. And then he's always making KENDALL do stuff like be the bad boy and aaaggghhhh I sweeaarrrr he's so GAY for Kendall. THE EVIDENCE IS RIGHT THERE, GUYS. _

_Oh and Gustavo is really fun to write. Hope I got it right. ;-; You know, I think the only ones I really worry about getting right are Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan. The rest are kind of easy for me. I wonder why that is? Also, just sayin', I think Gustavo wanted the tape to keep for himself because it's got Kendall on it, and you know how he is with Kendall. -is hit in the head- And I know it wasn't exactly a tape recorder on the show, but I didn't really know how else to describe it. So sorry if I offended anyone with my corruptions. -oh, the irony-_

_Anyway, there ya go. I got the idea when Kelly said that she records EVERYTHING now, and I was like OH OH IDEA YEAH and then I stayed up late writing this, and we all know what happens when I write late at night. -sigh- This is probably going to be the last thing BTR I write, POSSIBLY, because I quite frankly have no confidence in my ability to characterize and get it all right, so I'll do the Carlos rape, The Epic of Bandana Man, and a spin-off of this because I really want to write said smoothie epidemic that started the relationship, and then I guess I'm done. I was getting insane urges to write Wayne Wayne/Kendall, though. Wayne Wayne's pretty hot. -dies-_


End file.
